


And Then There Were Four

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Implied Mpreg, Kid Fic, M/M, Omega Harold Finch, Omega Verse, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 05:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17781329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: “Couldn’t we try for another?” John asked, and the question wasn’t out of the blue. Especially from an alpha on Valentine’s Day.





	And Then There Were Four

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, Rinch fandom! These are not linked to each other or needed to understand this fic, but for more fluff, see [2018](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679025) and [2017](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9712946). 
> 
> Huge thanks to MulaSaWala for the prompt.
> 
> This fills the 'Valentine' square on my Fluff Bingo card.

Sunshine streamed through the skylight on the landing, warming the back of John’s neck. He was sweating quite happily. After returning from running laps around the nearby lake, he liked using that momentum to get the housework done. He’d already blitzed the downstairs, and now he’d hauled the vacuum cleaner up to the second floor, wielding it with the same confident ease as he had - many years ago - a rifle.

His and Harold’s room was next. He went in, kicked the vacuum off and locked it upright, and went over to the bed to change the sheets and flip the mattress. He’d treated Harold to breakfast in bed this morning, and as much as they had both enjoyed that, Harold would wince if he encountered crumbs later. John had his own plans for tonight, involving this bed and very few clothes, making the most of a rare evening with the house to themselves.

Sophie was going to a sleepover with a group of friends. Harold had already packed her an overnight bag, with midnight snacks and her favorite console games. While he thought about that, it occurred to John that Harold might not have packed Octavia, the cute purple plush octopus which lived on Sophie’s nightstand during the day and tucked under her pillow while she slept. Octavia would still have been in bed when Harold left for work.

John finished making the bed, then went into Sophie’s room to check. Sure enough, the toy was where she usually left it. On his way out, John’s eye was caught by a sprinkle of pink glitter on the carpet. He wanted to vacuum that up, but... Suddenly torn, John paused in the middle of the room, absently twirling Octavia around in one hand. Where had the glitter come from? Spying on his own daughter was one of the things John had resolved never to do when he became a father. He would never read her diary. But just flicking through the pile of papers on her desk wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it? Careful not to displace the stack, John ran the pad of his thumb over the corners of homework assignments, certificates and exercise books. A smaller piece of thick cardboard was lodged in the middle. The front was completely covered in glitter, except for a heart shape left blank in the center. John slid it out. This was a Valentine’s card.

Last Friday, Sophie had come home with a letter from her teacher explaining to all parents that their new policy was for every child to give a card to each of their classmates, with a list of first names on the back. This was fairly short notice, but they’d teamed up as a family on Saturday afternoon to get the work done.

Harold had done his fancy calligraphy on thirty-eight envelopes while John and Sophie worked their way more slowly through the list of names, forming their own production line of cutting and gluing. The point being…John had seen all of the cards she had decided to make, and this wasn’t one of them. She’d taken the rest with her to hand out in class today. Why not this? Had she made one for her parents in secret?

Giving in to temptation, John put Octavia down to open the card.

This wasn’t Sophie’s handwriting. There weren’t even words. Just strings of numbers, between one and seven, occasionally repeating. One of Sophie’s friends had already given her a card…in tap code.

John grinned. She was definitely their daughter. And she’d trusted someone enough to teach them. She’d successfully ensured her privacy from nosy, overprotective dads. John respected that. He put the card back where she’d hidden it, without decoding the message or identifying the sender.

\---

When Harold got back from dropping Sophie off at her sleepover, John kissed him hello in the hall. The house was spotless, and fragrant dishes simmered in the kitchen.

Harold lightly squeezed John’s shoulders. “Thanks for sending Octavia, she seemed very relieved not to have to do without it.”

“No problem. How was your day?”

Harold waffled on about boring insurance stuff, while John led him by the hand to the table. “Oh,” he sighed, color in his cheeks, and his face softened in a way that never failed to make John’s heart glow. “Well, now it’s all forgotten. Thank you, John.” More kisses followed, each longer than the last.

\---

Over dinner, John told Harold what he’d found. Harold fretted about the implications, whether the sender were another omega, what that meant, if anything. John reminded him they would find out when she wanted them to, and that was if Sophie were even still friends with the sender in a few years. John had had no idea how fast young girls burned through friendships until he’d had a daughter. But this gave him hope, all the same. Someone who could keep up with Sophie, who didn’t mind how ferociously smart she was.

“Couldn’t we try for another?” John asked, and the question wasn’t out of the blue. Especially from an alpha on Valentine’s Day.

Harold was wistful, returning to the points he always made first. “Two siblings, eight years apart…” John calmly refuted them all. Especially his last, and weakest. Everyone knew it was a myth that omegas were only fertile during heats.   
  
\---

A few days later, Harold came out of the bathroom with some very good news.


End file.
